


Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind?

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-10
Updated: 1999-05-10
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived atDue South Archive. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDue South Archive collection profile.





	Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind?

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind?

# Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind?
    
    
    By: Michelle Sinclair.
    **Rated R (m/m premise).  Drama**
    (**Note: Just a quick warning.  There is a m/m premise here but nothing
    graphic.)  
                                    
                    Prologue: The End of Everything
                     This is the end of everything
                         This is the end I know
                     This is the end of everything
                  Take your love with you when you go
                     This is the end of happiness 
                       This is the end of dreams
                     This is the end of everything
                      It's the end for you and me
                        I don't know what to do
                      In my heart I still love you
                        I don't know what to say
                      I will always feel this way
                     This is the end of everything 
                         This is the end I know
                     This is the end of everything
                  Take your love with you when you go
                              Chris Isaak
                    'End Of Everything'--Forever Blue
                                    
    	When the plane touched down at LaGuardia Airport in the 
    borough of Queens in New York City, the Mountie felt something 
    like a feeling stir within.  It probably was indigestion, the Mountie
    mused.  The Mountie's stomach twisted and turned, leaving him 
    with a feeling of nausea. If he wasn't sure it was indigestion, he might
    have to conclude it was fear.  But it was indigestion, of that he was
    now completely certain.  The Mountie (dressed in civilian clothes because
    he was sure that his uniform would not go over 
    well in NYC) exited the plane and headed outside.  The air was 
    heavy on this late April day in Queens.  It was misty and dank, 
    reflecting the rain that was yet to come or already had come or 
    may yet come again.  The Mountie surveyed his new surroundings.  He concluded
    that the snow and wilderness of the Yukon were 
    more welcoming than the unwavering callousness that was this 
    city.  The Mountie (having left his hat behind) headed toward one of
    the several taxis that had converged around the airport.  He 
    half expected a "rude New Yorker" to push him out of the way
    and jump into the cab he had selected.  It didn't happen.  He got in
    the car and told the driver to take him to the Plaza.  The Mountie knew,
    as surely as he knew that the sun would rise tomorrow that someone was
    going to die in New York City today.  Of course, he 
    didn't know who would die.  It might be he.  He also knew, that if *he*
    didn't die, he might as well.  It was more than probable that he would
    never see Chicago or the person he loved that was in Chicago, ever again.
    
    	The Cop felt pain.  The pain of rejection.  It had happened before,
    but it never cut so deep. Why? He asked himself.  Why was he so 
    naive?  Did he actually truly believe that the Mountie loved him?  The
    Cop had to laugh at that.  Obviously it was an absurd notion.  Of course
    the Mountie was just playing with him, toying with his emotions. The
    Mountie had everyone fooled, didn't he? Playing all self righteous and
    holier-than-thou.  The Cop closed his eyes as a way of damming up the
    flood of tears that threatened to come. 
    
    	The Cop had thought it odd when the Mountie had asked him to 
    leave his apartment in the middle of the night. The Cop had asked why,
    but the Mountie had said only "Please go, I'll explain in the morning."
    While this worried the Cop, he had complied.  The Cop got his explanation
    all right.  The Mountie had left a note on his desk for the Cop to find
    this morning.  The actual words of the note didn't matter.  It had boiled
    down to the Mountie realizing what a mistake their relationship was and
    saying goodbye, you'll never 
    see me again.  There was a wound now, in the Cop's soul.  He 
    could feel the wound throb and burn.  It would never go away.  
    The Cop had no one to blame for this but himself.
    
                                 *****
                    Part I: Sex, Lies and Videotape
                                    
                  I know somebody and they cry for you
                they lie awake at night and dream of you
                   I bet you never even know they do
                          But somebody's crying
                I know somebody and they call your name 
                a million times and still you never came
                  They go on loving you just the same
                     I know that somebody's trying
                              Chris Isaak
                    'Somebody's Crying'--Forever Blue
                                    
    	In his hotel room finally (not *his* actually, the one *she* had paid
    for).  He sat on the king sized bed.  Much too opulent for his tastes,
    but it suited her.  He held in his hands the package he 
    had sent himself from Chicago yesterday.  He had sent it as soon as he
    had received her note.  He had returned home from the 
    consulate and had been ready to prepare a dinner for himself and his
    lover. Ray.  He felt a dull ache in the depths of his being.  He suspected
    the site where the suffering resided was the void where his soul used
    to be.  Returning his attention to the package in his hands, he began
    to open it.  It was his RCMP issue hand gun.  He took in a sharp breath.
    He couldn't take it on the plane so he had sent it express mail yesterday
    to the hotel so he would have it when he arrived today. Her note had
    been explicit enough:  Be at the 
    Plaza in Manhattan by 3:00 P.M. tomorrow.  I need you.  Ray will suffer
    if you don't come.  With Love, Victoria.'  He tucked the gun between
    the waist of his jeans and his skin.  It was reassuring to feel the cold
    metal there at his side.  His watch said 3:02 P.M., she was late.  Where
    could she be?  He tried not to think about Ray.  He didn't want to recognize
    the amount of hurt he had caused Ray.  He had left him an unfeeling little
    note at the station.  It had said, in effect: "It was wrong, we
    were wrong.  I'm sorry.  I'm leaving Chicago. Goodbye."  He had
    left Dief with Willie and told Willie that if he didn't hear from Fraser
    in a week to assume he could keep Diefenbaker.  Despite Willie's protests
    and inquiries he had accepted Fraser's entreaty.
    
      It was better like this, Fraser concluded, better for everyone.  He
    had to take care of  Victoria on his own.  He heard the door lock turn
    and soon beheld that curly haired cockatrice (what made him liken her
    to a mythological creature that could kill with a mere glance?  A creature
    so dreadful if it saw its own reflection in a mirror it supposedly died
    of fright?  Just coincidence, he imagined).
    
    "Ben.  I knew you'd come."  She was smiling.  She was still
    absolutely beautiful to him.
    
    "Why Victoria?  Why now?"
    
    "What?  No 'hello'? No 'I missed you so'?  Come on, Ben.  I missed
    you terribly, didn't you miss me?"
    
    "In a way."
    
    "In what way?"  She was close to him now, running her hands
    over his face, through his short hair.  
    
    "Like you miss a dead relative," was his answer.
    
    "Is that what I am to you Ben?  Dead?  Is that why you forgot all
    about me and fell into Ray's arms?  Hmmm?  Did I drive you to 
    that?"  He was startled by this comment.  How in God's name could
    she know about him and Ray?  Unless she was watching 
    them, unless she had seen them . . . "Oh Ben.  I feel so guilty.
    To think, I'm responsible for the waste of a perfectly good man.  Tell
    me though Ben, he can't make you *feel* what I make you 
    feel, can he Ben?"  She was condescending.  Her words dripped with
    acid.  She had her hand on his chest, undoing the buttons 
    one by one.
    
    "How . . . how do you . . . "
    
    "Know?  Simple really.  I've been watching you for some time now."
    
    "Watching us?"
    
    "Oh yes.  I wanted to keep an eye on you, my sweet Ben.  I 
    needed to see that you were okay. After that bastard shot you 
    and I had fled . . . well, I was worried you might get so depressed that
    you might actually do something rash--well, you did do 
    *something* rash, just not the something I had imagined.  Really Ben,
    it is shameless the way you and he romp around in that bed.  To think
    *we* did *that* in that bed . . . "
    
    "How, Victoria?  How did you *watch* us?  Have you been in Chicago
    the whole time?"
    
    "Of course not.  You would've seen me.  Or worse, Ray would have.
    He wants to shoot me, Ben."
    
    "How then?!" She was trying his patience.  But he had a sick
    sensation of just *how* she was watching him.  
    
    "Video, my love.  The miracle of modern technology.  A teeny, tiny
    camera placed at a *very* advantageous angle in your apartment.   No
    sound, but it did its job.  I must admit I think the sound of your voice
    screaming out 'Oh Ray' might have sent me off the depths."  She
    smiled now at him.  "I, of course, have a tape of you and him. Admittedly
    I wanted to burn it countless times.  It cuts so deep Ben."
    
    "What are you going to do with this tape?"
    
    "Oh, I don't know . . . send it to all the *right* people in Chicago,
    I suppose.  Imagine the destruction this tape could cause to your 
    precious Ray.  His career, his very life would be in ruins." 
    
    "Why Victoria?!  He never hurt you.  I was the one who hurt you."
    
    "Oh, he hurt me, Ben!"  Her voice was loud now and biting.
    "You don't know.  You have no idea how painful it was to watch him
    
    with his hands all over you . . . touching you. You belong to *me* Ben,
    not him!  I cried over you Ben!  I wept for you!  And then I have to
    sit and watch him *fuck* you?!"  
    
    "What is it you want from me then?  Why ask me to come here?"
    
    She seemed to calm a little.  Just a little.  He suddenly remembered
    the gun at his side.  But he couldn't kill her.  Not yet.  He needed
    to know where this tape was. "You Ben.  It's always been you."
    She said this with intense feeling.  She kneeled down on the bed in front
    of him. "I do love you Ben.  You know that."
    
    "You love me?  Yet you seek to hurt me."
    
    "No!  Never."
    
    "Never?  You threaten to release this tape?  To ruin Ray's life,
    his career?  That hurts me, Victoria."
    
    "Ben you just . . . you're confused . . . you'll see.  Once we're
    away from this damnable country, you'll see."  She sounded almost
    desperate.  The anger in her eyes was clear though.
    
    "How do I know that you won't release the tape anyway?  How do I
    know you haven't done it already?"  
    
    "Trust me, Ben."
    
    "Trust you?  What have you ever done causing me to have faith in
    you?"
    
    "I could ask the same question."  That comment pierced into
    him like a poisonous dart.  She was right, after all.  What had he ever
    done to deserve her trust?
    
    "Victoria . . . where is the tape?"
    
    "Safe.  So Ben, what will it be?  You coming with me this time like
    you were going to do last time before *Ray* got in our way?  Or are you
    going to be responsible for the end of everything for him?" 
    
    "I need to see this tape.  How do I know if you even have a tape?"
    
    "Fair enough, Ben."  She walked away from him now.  She removed
    a video cassette from her purse, slid it out of its jacket, and popped
    it into the VCR. "I knew you'd want proof."  She pressed play.
    Sure enough there they were, he and Ray.  It was a particularly graphic
    tape. There was no doubt who the people on the tape were.  He 
    watched in agony as Ray lay in his arms on the TV screen, the tape was
    authentic, there was no doubt.  He saw Victoria wince at this scene.
    She looked at him now.  "Getting turned on, Ben?" 
    
    "Victoria, I don't understand why you'd want me to come away with
    you.  Obviously it disturbs you to see me with Ray.  Why would you still
    want me?"
    
    "Everyone's allowed to make a mistake, Ben.  Even you.  Well, you've
    made several concerning me, haven't you?  Besides, I must have 
    caused you so much pain that you were seduced by that lecherous 
    man." Her anger was reaching a crescendo again.
    
    "You're wrong, Victoria.  I wasn't coerced.  I went willingly. 
    I wanted Ray.  It took all the suffering and fury that you caused in
    me to get me to finally see clearly.  Ray's love is the best thing that
    ever happened to me.  I don't love you anymore Victoria.  I don't know
    that I ever did.  Not the way I love Ray."  She just shook her head.
    
    She had removed a revolver from her purse now and had it pointed at his
    head.  "Oh Ben.  I'm afraid that *wasn't* the right answer!"
    
                                 *****
                  Part II: How do you numb your skin?
                       How do you cool your lips
                         After a summer's kiss?
                        How do you rid the sweat
                         After the body bliss?
                       How do you turn your eyes
                        From the romantic glare?
                 How do you block the sound of a voice
                          You'd know anywhere?
               Oh I really should have known by the time
                           You drove me home
                     By the vagueness in your eyes
                          Your casual goodbyes
                      By the chill in your embrace
                      The expression on your face
                                Told me
                          Maybe you might have 
                          Some advice to give 
                             On how to be 
                              Insensitive
                              Insensitive
                              Insensitive
                                    
                       How do you numb your skin
                        After the warmest touch?
                       How do you slow your blood
                          After the body rush?
                       How do you free your soul
                      After you've found a friend?
                      How do you teach your heart 
                  It's a crime to fall in love again?
                   Oh you probably won't remember me
                     It's probably ancient history
                       I'm one of the chosen few
                    Who went ahead and fell for you
                    I'm out of bold I'm out of touch
                    I fell too fast I feel too much
                     I thought that you might have
                          Some advice to give
                              On how to be
                              Insensitive
                               Jann Arden
                              Insensitive'
                                    
    Ray was still at the station .  He had to get his mind off that 
    Mountie.  He was at his desk. Detective Huey had asked when 
    he arrived "Where's Big Red?"  Ray had shot him such a withering
    glance that Huey had immediately clammed up.  Ray was looking 
    at a file.  Looking, not reading. The words didn't make sense to him.
    He had lost his ability to read unexpectedly.  Damn Fraser! Damn him
    to high hell!  Ray had been trying to submerge his feelings 
    some place where they couldn't hurt him.  He was failing miserably. 
    Benny hurt and angered him.  Even though it had been less than 24 hours
    since he'd seen "Big Red" it didn't matter.  Ray realized that
    it didn't make a difference if it was a minute, an hour, a day, or a
    year.  The anguish wasn't going to subside.  Quite abruptly Ray 
    found himself filled with a rage that he knew no equal to.  He couldn't
    let Benny get away with just walking out like this.  He demanded an explanation
    better than "it just was wrong."  It wasn't so wrong when he
    made Benny beg for more was it?  He was sure that was ecstasy, not regret
    on the Mountie's face.  Ray got up from his desk and 
    decided to go to Ben's apartment and get to the bottom of this.  
    
    He almost made it out the door when he found him self toe-to-toe with
    Inspector Meg Thatcher.  The Dragon Lady had come for 
    answers.
    
    "Detective Vecchio, a *word*?"  He felt the temperature in
    the room fall at least 20 degrees. 
    
    "I'd love to chat, Inspector, but I really have an important case
    to attend to . . . "
    
    "D.t. Vecchio.  Do not, if you value your life, walk past *that*
    spot."  Ray let out a sigh of defeat.
    
    "What can I do for you ma'am?"
    
    "Have you seen Constable Fraser?"
    
    "No ma'am. I haven't seen him.  Can I go?"
    
    "Any idea where he is, Vecchio?"
    
    "Not the slightest."
    
    "He didn't come to the consulate this morning, didn't call.  I thought
    you might know something."
    
    "How would *I* know anything?"
    
    "I know you're *close* to Constable Fraser."  Now what in hell
    did she mean by that?
    
    "Yeah well, you know, Que sera."
    
    "Detective. If you *see* the constable would you tell him, he had
    better report to work and better have a *good* explanation for his disappearance."
    
    "I'll tell him if I see him, ma'am."  This time Ray got past
    Meg and was out the front door, in the Riv. and on his way to Ben's apartment.
    
    He truly hated this neighborhood.  He had begged Ben countless 
    times to move.  But the Mountie was safe here.  He was a sort of guardian
    angel for the neighborhood.  He heard a small, familiar whine as he bounded
    up the stairs.  He looked down.
    
    "Hey big guy, didn't Benny take you with him . . . wherever he went?"
    The wolf just stared at him pitifully.  Ray couldn't believe Benny would
    just abandon the wolf.  
    
    "Hey!  Diefenbaker!  Wait up would ya--" Willie Lambert came
    in after Dief and then saw the cop.  "Oh.  You," he said this
    with a small measure of displeasure.  
    
    "Yeah me.  You know where Fraser is, kid?"
    
    "Nope."
    
    "What are you doing with Diefenbaker?"
    
    "Fraser came over this morning before school and asked me to look
    out for him for a few days."
    
    "Yeah?  What else did Fraser say?"
    
    "Is he in some kind of trouble?"
    
    "I don't know.  That's what I'm trying to find out, kid.  So what
    else did he say?"
    
    "Nothing.  He was in a hurry.  He asked me to take care of Dief
    and said if he didn't call within a week that I could just keep him."
    
    "Keep Dief?"
    
    "Yep.  So what's going on?" Ray frowned.  He was confused.
    There was no way Ben would just leave Dief behind unless there was 
    something *really* wrong.  Ray pulled out his gun and opened the door
    to Ben's place saying "Police!"  The place was empty though.
    Dief hopped merrily inside. Ray went in, followed by Willie.  The place
    was neat as usual.  No sign of any foul play.  Actually it was impeccably
    clean, not a thing out of place except a small slip of paper that lay
    on the Mountie's bed.  Ray picked the paper up.  His mind swam at the
    words on the paper.  There was only one he could make out: "Victoria."
    Ray felt himself ready to vomit.  That bitch.  Of course she was involved
    in this.  He reread the note.  Plaza, NYC, 3:00 P.M..  
    
     "Willie.  You watch Diefenbaker.  If you don't hear from me in
    a week--"
    
    "I can keep the Riv.?"
    
    "No, you can call D.t. Huey at the station and give him this note.
    He'll understand."  Ray left the wolf and the boy and headed to
    his car.  Damn that woman and curse Benny for running to her like a 
    little trained puppy.  But then there was a mention of his name in the
    note, maybe Benny was trying to protect him.  But it didn't 
    matter to Ray what Ben's motives were.  He still should have come to
    Ray.  Ray wasn't sure why he was running off to NYC after Benny but he
    gave himself a reason that seemed satisfactory.  No matter how Benny
    may feel about him, and whether or not he chose Victoria  over him didn't
    matter.  Ray knew, knew deep down in his gut that this woman was dangerous
    to Benny.  Ray wasn't going to let that serpent hurt Benny again.  For
    that reason alone he would have
    followed them to NY.  There was another reason.  A jealous wrath
    that Ray could sense pulsating beneath the surface of his desire to protect
    Benny was another driving force.  Ray pushed that 
    feeling down another layer and kept his eyes on the road.
    
                                 *****
                                    
                          Part III: I Believe
         I believe the stars keep shining all through the night
          I believe if we just keep trying it'll be all right
              I believe that someday I'm gonna find my way
                    And I believe in a beautiful day
                                    
                I believe in lovers walking side by side
               I believe that someday you'll be satisfied
             I believe the angels listen God hears us pray
                    And I believe in a beautiful day
                 Yeah I believe its gonna work out okay
                             But not for me
                            And not for you
                                    
        I believe there's an answer waiting when the day is done
        I believe if you just keep searching you'll find someone
               I believe that you and I just lost our way
                    And I believe in a beautiful day
                   I still believe in a beautiful day
                            But not for me 
                            And not for you
                      I know you tried I tried too
             Sometimes all our dreams just don't come true
                              Chris Isaak
                       "I Believe"--Forever Blue
                                    
    Victoria had waved the gun in Ben's face for a few minutes.  But they
    both knew she had no intention of firing it at him.  She had it in her
    hand still but she wasn't brandishing it.  He had been trying to get
    out of her the information on where the original copy of the tape was.
    
    "Victoria?"
    
    "Come to your senses, Ben?"
    
    "How many copies are there?"
    
    "Oh, you'd like to know that, wouldn't you?"
    
    "Yes, I would.  Victoria, I can't come with you if I know that you
    could still ruin Ray's life. How many copies Victoria?"
    
    "Three.  This one," she said, holding up the copy she had played
    for him, "one in a safety deposit box in a bank in New Mexico and
    one in an airport locker at Kennedy."  
    
    Ben thought for a moment.  She could be lying to him now.  He 
    had no way of knowing if there were tapes in those places.  He 
    had no way of knowing if there were only three tapes or if there
    were 30. "Why New Mexico, Victoria?"
    
    "Why not?" she sighed.  "Well Ben, what's it going to
    be?" 
    
    "I need to think . . . alone."
    
    "Fine. I know you won't leave here.  I have to check on some things
    anyway.  I'll be back in two hours.  I'll expect your answer then."
    She left him then, taking the tape with her. He looked around the room.
    Trying to gain equilibrium.  She had left him reeling.  There was no
    way to protect Ray from her wrath except to kill her.  He knew this.
    Even if he went with her, she could still ruin Ray.  He noticed she had
    left the jacket of the video tape on the dresser.  He moved over and
    took it in his hands.  It was simply black with a label that read "Victoria
    Metcalf."  He stared at the label.  In very small print in the corner
    he saw "Starlight Video Labs, Chicago, Illinois."  There was
    no phone number.  But he had a feeling . . . there was no way to record
    the goings on in his apartment unless it was a closed circuit television
    camera that could feed the images to a remote location.  And from what
    he knew of closed circuit television, the range was very limited. And
    she hadn't been in Chicago she said . . .  
    He picked up the telephone and asked for Chicago Information.  He was
    hooked up to an operator in the Windy City.  
    
    "What listing please?"
    
    "Starlight Video Labs."
    
    "One moment."  Ben waited and soon the voice said.  "Hold
    for your number."  A tinny voice soon repeated the number twice.
    Ben hung the phone up and dialed the number of the lab.  
    
    "Starlight Video," came a youngish sounding voice.
    
    "Hello.  I am calling about a video tape that I believe you produced
    for me."
    
    "What kind of tape sir?"
    
    "I believe it was recorded on closed circuit television.  The name
    is Victoria Metcalf."
    
    "Oh yeah, I remember her.  Real pretty."
    
    "Yes, she's my . . . sister.  She asked me to call because she seems
    to have misplaced the tapes she had you make for her." 
    
    "Yeah, she payed us in cash to have her boyfriend's place wired.
    Pretty tricky job."
    
    "That was three tapes, right?"
    
    "Yeah, well, we made lots of tapes, we had to send her about five
    a week full of all the stuff going on in his place.  She came in one
    day and we edited it down to one tape's worth of useful footage.  I guess
    she was gonna blackmail the bum," he snickered.  
    
    "When did she come in?"
    
    "Uh, about four days ago."
    
    "How many copies of the final tape did you make for her?" 
    
    "Well, we duplicated three.  We sent one to a bank in New Mexico
    and the other two to the Plaza in NYC."
    
    "Three?  And, could she have made other copies?"
    
    "Oh, no way, they wouldn't come out good.  These tapes we use cannot
    be copied by a normal VCR.  It's better for business." 
    
    "I would imagine.  These other tapes full of footage, in case we
    can't find the misplaced copies, do you still have them?"
    
    "No.  We destroyed them at her request.  But we still have a master
    copy of the final tape if you need it . . . "
    
    "Yes, I need it. But I need *the* master copy.  I don't want you
    to keep a copy in your archive."
    
    "Okay, you're gonna have to come down here with ID and then we can
    turn it over to you . . . "
    
    "Thank you kindly."  Ben hung the phone up.  He knew now that
    there was a way out of this. Only four tapes existed.  Two were in NY.
    One was in New Mexico and the last one was in a video lab 
    in Chicago.  He dialed Ray's cellular phone number.  He would 
    have to confide in Ray after all. He just prayed that Ray would 
    listen to him.
    
                                 *****
                                    
                        Part IV: Hurt Like Hell
        Hold on Hold on to yourself for this is gonna hurt like
    hell.  Hold on Hold on to yourself you know that only time can tell What
    is it in me that refuses to believe this isn't easier than
         the real thing.  My love you know you're my best friend
     You know I'd do anything for you and my love let nothing come
             between us my love for you is strong and true
                   Am I in heaven here or am I . . .
                           --Sarah McLachlan
                   Hold On'--Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
                                    
    Arriving in New York was the easy part.  Confronting Benny and 
    Victoria was harder.  If Ray found them in bed together, he might shoot
    them both.  He arrived at the Plaza.  He went to the desk 
    and asked for the room of "Benton Fraser."  The desk clerk
    informed him there was no Benton Fraser at the Plaza.  He asked 
    for Victoria Metcalf.  There was a Victoria Metcalf but he couldn't let
    Ray have the room information, it was against hotel policy.  Ray flashed
    his badge and the clerk failed to notice it wasn't an NYPD badge and
    promptly told Ray the room number.  Ray went 
    on up.  He didn't bother knocking on the door he simply yelled 
    police and prepared to kick it in.  The door swung open before he could
    do that.
    
    "RAY!!!  What are you doing in NY?"
    
    "I could ask you the same question Benny," Ray grumbled.  "Where
    is she?"  Ray walked into the room, past Benny.
    
    "Ray, how did you find me?"
    
    "You left the note she sent you, you moron."  Ray threw the
    little piece of crumpled up paper at Benny.   WHERE IS SHE?!" 
    
    "Out.  Ray, you have to leave.  If she comes back--"
    
    "I ain't leaving Fraser.  Answers.  Start talking."
    
    "Ray, must you be so difficult?"
    
    "Fraser!  You walked out on me!  No explanation.  Nothin'!  You
    can't just treat people like that or didn't the Inuit have a story about
    that?"
    
    "Ray.  If Victoria finds you here . . . "
    
    "What?  What's she gonna do?  What would she do if I told her the
    *truth* Fraser?  Huh? About all those times in your bed that you and
    I--"
    
    "She knows Ray."
    
    "What?!"
    
    "She's had my apartment wired with a closed circuit camera for some
    time now.  She has a tape of us . . . you know.  She's going to use it
    to destroy you.  That's why I'm here with her.  I'm sorry Ray.  I seem
    to keep ruining your life."
    
    Ray's anger subsided a little.  So Fraser was really just trying to protect
    him?  "Is that the truth Benny?  You sure some little part of you
    didn't want to run off to be with her?"
    
    "I told her I never loved her.  Could never love her the way I love
    you.  She doesn't seem to care.  There are four copies of the tape. 
    Two are here in NY.  One is in New Mexico and the last one is a master
    copy that the Video Lab in Chicago has.  I was trying to call you . .
    . to get the tape . . .you were . . . out of range."  Ray could
    see the pain in Ben's eyes.  He was clearly hurting for having left Ray
    and was feeling responsible for the trouble Ray was in now.
    
    "Oh.  Well, we have to get the tapes, Fraser."
    
    "Yes, but I'm afraid if she sees you here it will be impossible."
    
    "Ah, too late."  There was that voice.  The one that kept him
    alive in the blizzard. The one that claimed love for him.  The one that
    knew just what to say to get him to react the way it wanted him to. 
    "Nice to see you, Ray.  It's been too long."  She had her revolver
    trained on Ben.  Ray had his out too, pointed at Victoria.  "Drop
    the gun, Vecchio.  I'll shoot Ben if you don't.  You know I'll do it."
    He put the gun on the edge of the bed.  "This was a stupid mistake,
    Ben.  Why'd you call Vecchio?"
    
    "He found the note you left me in my apartment."
    
    "Ah. Such a smart detective.  Almost as good of a cop as you, Ben.
    Do *you* always get your man, Ray?"  She looked at Ray with her
    steely eyes.  "Well, evidently you do.  Well now what am I going
    to do?  Hmm boys?  I guess I could solve my *Ray* problem permanently,
    now couldn't I?"  She was pointing the gun at Ray.  Ben watched
    her finger play on the trigger.  It was shaking there, but squeezing
    the trigger back ever so slowly.  
    
    "NOOOOOOO!"  Ben roared and in an instance had removed the
    RCMP issue hand gun from his side and fired off one shot.  Ray 
    had hit the floor as her gun had fired.  Ray had avoided the bullet.
    Ben stood there in horror.  He didn't feel anything.  Numbness 
    washed over him.  He quickly went to Victoria's side.  The gun 
    had clattered a few feet away.  "Victoria?" She looked up at
    him.  Blood was pouring from the wound in her stomach.  She blinked 
    backed tears.
    
    "Ben . . . I knew you had it in you."  She smiled faintly at
    him. 
    
    "Hold on Victoria.  Come on."
    
    "No . . . too late for me . . . Ben?"
    
    "Yes?"
    
    "You loved me, didn't you?"
    
    "Yes Victoria, always."  She smiled sadly now.
    
    "I knew you did.  I love . . . loved . . . love . . . you . . .
    " 
    
    Ray had kneeled down beside Ben and Victoria now.  "The 
    ambulance is coming Benny."
    
    "I thought it would be you, Ray," she choked at him.
    
    "So did I," he said sadly, looking at Benny.  The tears were
    spilling down Ben's face.  
    
                                  *****
                          Part V: Good Enough
              So don't tell me I haven't been good to you
              Don't tell me I haven't been there for you 
                Just tell me why nothing is good enough
                            -Sarah McLachlan
                 Good Enough'--Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
                                    
    A week.  The Mountie felt grief. It still ebbed and flowed throughout
    his body.  The funeral had been surreal.  It hadn't felt like it was
    he attending it.  He and the Cop had been the only mourners.  Victoria
    was buried in a small cemetery in NY.  The Mountie had no idea 
    where else to bury her.  The NY police had bought the story about it
    being self defense.  Besides, she was a wanted criminal.  No need to
    put a law-abiding Mountie in jail for the death of a criminal. The Mountie
    and the Cop had returned to Chicago the next day.  Through his connections
    the Cop had all the copies of the video tape found and destroyed.   That
    threat was gone.  The Cop also had all the closed circuit cameras removed
    from the Mountie's apartment.  
    
    The Cop was keeping his distance from the Mountie.  He knew that the
    Mountie was suffering.  After all, how could he not suffer?  He had shot
    and killed the only woman he ever loved. The Cop 
    understood a little of what the Mountie felt.  He had lost Irene in a
    similar way.  But he hadn't been the one to deliver the bullet.  But
    he felt a sorrow that was not unlike how he would have felt if he had
    shot Irene himself though.  The Cop decided he wanted to 
    see the Mountie.  He had to talk to him.  He could feel the Mountie slipping
    away from him.  He went over to the apartment.  It was 
    close to Midnight. He knocked on the Mountie's door.  
    
    "Come."   He did.
    
    "I just wanted to make sure you're all right."
    
    The Mountie was leaning against the wall near the window, looking sideways
    through it.  "I killed her."
    
    "You didn't mean to.  You were protecting me.  Did I thank you for
    that?"
    
    "No, I meant to.  I wanted to.  I knew I would do it.  When I got
    her note.  I knew."
    
    "You were just protecting me.  Stop blaming yourself."  The
    Cop was approaching the Mountie.
    
    "I would have killed her anyway.  Even if you weren't in danger.
    I loved her.  But I couldn't help her.  I wasn't good enough." 
    
    "Some people just can't be saved."
    
    "I don't believe that.  Everyone can be saved."
    
    "No.  You can't help people if they don't want to be helped."
    The Mountie seemed to ponder this thought.  
    
    "Maybe you're right.  I couldn't let her hurt you."  The Cop
    was close to the Mountie now. He lay a gentle hand on the Mountie's 
    shoulder.  When the Mountie didn't protest, he slid his hand up 
    the side of the Mountie's face, running his thumb across the 
    Mountie's lips.  
    
    "I know Benny.  I know."
    
                                 *****
                    Epilogue: Holding Out Holding In
           I love the time and in between the calm inside me
    in the space where I can breathe I believe there is a distance 
      I have wandered to touch upon the years of reaching out and 
     reaching in holding out holding in.  I believe this is heaven
       to no one else but me and I'll defend it as long as I can 
     be left here to linger in silence if I choose to you would you
       try to understand.  I know this love is passing time pass-
       ing through like liquid I am drunk in my own desire . . .
    But I love the way you smile at me I love the way your hands reach  out
    and hold me near . . . I believe . . .
    		 I believe this is heaven to no one 
    else but me and I'll defend it as long as I can be left here to
                         linger in silence . . .
                            -Sarah McLachlan
                  Elsewhere'--Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
                                    
    Ben and Ray lay in their bed.  It was silent and peaceful.  It was a
    sharp contrast to the last few weeks.  To Ray's surprise Ben had found
    his way back to him.  Ray knew that Ben wasn't over Victoria.  He knew
    that Ben might never get over her; might never forgive himself for her
    death.  Ben had been unnervingly quiet since her death.  Ray was suddenly
    aware of Ben's eyes on him.
    
    "Something on your mind, Benny?"
    
    "I was just thinking.  I was thinking . . ."
    
    "What, Benny?"
    
    "Is it wrong to be glad . . . to be glad that I'm . . . that we're
    finally free of her?"
    
    "I don't think so Benny.  Can I . . . ask you something Benny?"
    
    "Of course Ray."
    
    "Would you . . . if you had to do it again . . . I saw the indecision
    in your eyes.  It was there for a fleeting second . . . if you had to
    decide again . . ."
    
    "I would do it again, Ray.  I will always choose you.  I will choose
    your life before anyone else's life, including my own."
    
    "Thank you Benny."
    
    "Don't thank me Ray.  It's a simple matter of survival.  My life
    means nothing without you in it."
    
    "Thanks anyway Benny."
    
    "You're welcome kindly Ray."
    
                                THE END
                                    
      1996 by Michelle Sinclair  
    


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